


Undying Devotion

by Moonlitdark



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Ministry event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28628970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlitdark/pseuds/Moonlitdark
Summary: Harry watched closely through the ever-shifting crowd. Draco blossomed at these occasions, his dazzling smile broadening at each person’s approach. Out of hearing range, Harry could imagine the compliments and conversation flowing with ease and charm, while he continued to present his own best efforts to at least sound pleasant, if not incredibly articulate.And things were about to get worse. He could feel it. Red hair had been hovering on the side-lines all evening and Harry’s heckles rose every time that mane strayed too close.Harry is enjoying his relationship with Draco, even though it isn't yet public knowledge. But Ginny is not a good loser, and it's all about to kick off.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Past Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 168





	Undying Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted a long time ago on Livejournal. So if it seems familiar, you've probably read it before.

Harry hated these events. No matter how many times he put himself through this, the repetitive process never became any easier… nod in greeting, offer a friendly hand to shake, say something vacantly pleasant, listen intently to the response and answer with equally vanilla cheeriness before beating a hasty retreat. 

Although passing bodies regularly blocked his view, Harry watched closely through the ever-shifting crowd. Draco blossomed at these occasions, his dazzling smile broadening at each person’s approach. Out of hearing range, Harry could imagine the compliments and conversation flowing with ease and charm, while he continued to present his own best efforts to at least sound pleasant, if not incredibly articulate. 

And things were about to get worse. He could feel it. Red hair had been hovering on the side-lines all evening and Harry’s heckles rose every time that mane strayed too close. This was the effect that Ginny’s presence always had on him now. Once he’d longed for her companionship, had laughed at her humour and sighed with pleasure as he held her. But none of it had been enough for Ginny and would never have been right for Harry.

Now, only old hurt rose with Ginny’s cold gaze. Maybe he’d been unreasonable, hoping that they could remain friends or that their relationship had meant enough to merit at least some effort to move beyond the bitterness. But Harry hadn’t felt bitter, not until the hostility which radiated from his former girlfriend had made it very clear that her opinion of him had altered irrevocably. Their transition from adolescent fumbling to lovers hadn’t been an easy one, not for him, so when the moment had finally come, Harry had faltered. Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t have made anything easier. The woman whom he couldn’t quite love enough had retreated from his rejection, emerging as a resentful shadow of her former self. No-one around him had appeared surprised at her change in persona, so Harry often wondered whether his sense of loyalty had prevented him from seeing what was always there. 

But still, the situation had been almost tolerable… that is, until Draco. Harry hadn’t publicly announced either his preference or his lover, but somehow Ginny knew. She could see Harry’s new contentment and understood what it meant. Not that she had thus far commented, but the sly looks spoke volumes.

The grin presently on Ginny's lips as she neared was making Harry nervous, but what worried him most was the cocktail glass swinging between her fingers. The youngest Weasley had never been able to cope with alcohol very well. Harry had many hideous recollections of Ginny’s past dalliances with drink. 

“Hello, Ginny,” Harry sighed when she reached him, deciding that an abrupt bolt for freedom wouldn’t likely get him very far from this woman’s drunken clutches.

She beamed, the smile stretching out, distorting her attractive features. “Enjoying yourself, Harry?”

“Not really.” It was usually wiser during these encounters to offer a few curt answers before backing carefully and gradually towards the exit.

“Shame. Malfoy seems to be,” Ginny hiccupped. She took a swig of garish liquid, but her calculating stare never left his.

Harry resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder to observe Draco’s current activities. “Why would I care whether Malfoy’s enjoying himself?”

A silver ring tinkled against the side of the glass as her fingers quivered. “You mean that you don’t?”

“I mean than it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not, but it’s still interesting.”

“What is?” Harry enquired, regretting the question a second later. It was never a good idea to encourage banter.

“You and Malfoy.”

“There is no _me_ and Malfoy.”

“Right,” she nodded, obviously not in the slightest convinced. 

The scarce niceties which Harry tried so hard to maintain were beginning to wilt. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy?” 

“Actually, I do.” Ginny surprisingly agreed, before twisting away into the crowd. 

The relief he felt at her disappearance was marred slightly by ominous suspicion, but he shook it off as the next stranger stepped close to greet him with a familiarity which Harry didn’t share.

He felt so out of place here among these people. Harry didn’t know how to act within this environment, couldn’t relax into the role to be the person they expected. But that had always been the problem, wasn’t new. The need to seek a peaceful corner away from dignitaries and ex-girlfriends shortly led him into an room far down the corridor from the ballroom. 

Harry longed to stride back into that room and confidently take the arm of his lover, shouting out that Draco Malfoy was _his_ and would everyone else please stop bloody drooling all over him, thank you very much, but he knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Draco’s blossoming career was important to them both. No matter how trusted the Malfoy name might now be regarded within these circles and how hard Draco had worked towards that goal and succeeded, the announcement that the son of a Death Eater was dating their saviour may not be well received by the public.

He’d remained slumped in a deeply cushioned chair for some time, enjoying the silence before the door creaked ajar, a splay of blond peeking around the edge.

“What are you doing hiding in here?” Draco asked, stepping into the room. “Took me ages to find you.”

There was never any need to hide his emotions around this man; in fact, Draco didn’t tolerate it. Harry was constantly prodded towards letting down his barriers, Draco arguing that if _he’d_ achieved that miraculous feat over the last few years, then it should be an undemanding undertaking for someone like Harry. Sometimes it was easier than others. “I hate these functions, Draco. Can’t we just go home?”

“Not yet.” Draco’s immaculately robed figure nudged the door shut behind him. “Plenty more people to meet.”

“Ginny’s here.”

As Draco reached Harry’s side, grasped his hands and heaved him from the cushions, a flit of anger crossed Draco’s face, but didn’t linger. “I noticed that. Is she being a bitch again?”

“No. Not exactly…” the usual brow tilted, “sort of.”

“You don’t need to put up with that.”

Arms parted and Harry snuggled gratefully into the warmth. “I know, but it’s just…”

“That you feel you owe her something?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” Draco prompted, nuzzling their cheeks together.

“It’s not that simple.”

Harry felt Draco’s grin against his cheek. “Nothing ever is with you.”

“But it’s not that complicated either… I really just want to go home.”

Draco drew back a little, eyes gently focusing. “Hey, it’s not so bad around here. You just need to learn how to better appreciate people fawning over you. It can actually be quite enjoyable.”

Harry wasn’t convinced. “Can it?”

“Oh, yes. All the compliments. The _undying_ devotion.” 

Draco could always pull out a chuckle. “Can’t I just have _you_ fawn all over me and be done with it?”

“Possibly. You have the world at your feet. What do you want?”

“I don’t _want_ the world at my feet.”

“How about just me, then?” All that Harry wanted was already wrapped up in his arms. When he didn’t immediately answer, Draco wrapped him more securely, fingers beginning a slow massage to his lower back. “At your feet. On my knees… whatever you like.”

“But I’d rather have you at my back than on your knees.”

The massage moved lower, cupping Harry’s buttocks. “Would you like me to do anything in particular while I’m back there?”

Harry’s smile rose in spite of himself. “Just whatever occurs to you at the time.”

“Cowardly answer, Potter,” Draco whispered, leaning close to his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“Right here?”

“Where else?”

“I was thinking maybe at home?”

Turning Harry to face a nearby desk, Draco countered, “Like I said – it’s not time to go home yet.”

Since this didn’t seem like the ideal venue for sharing the scenario which Draco’s hold on him was implying, Harry tried to shake himself free, not entirely protesting, “Draco, don’t…”

Draco clung on tight to Harry’s upper arms, pulling Harry backwards to lean on a frame of silk and skin. “ _Tell_ me.”

Despite their location, the enthralling combination of the strong grip on his arms and a hardening bulge resting at Harry’s arse was sufficient to melt away all other thoughts, so therefore Harry’s whispered reply wasn’t altogether unexpected. “I… I want you to touch me.”

“That’s an extremely vague term. Be more explicit.” Hips flexed forward for emphasis.

“I want… you to stick your fingers up my arse. Is that explicit enough?” Harry groaned in frustration. Perhaps he shouldn’t have criticised Ginny, since the ease of his enthusiasm might’ve indicated that he’d had a bit too much to drink himself.

Draco sniggered, jostling Harry with the vibration. “It’s a beginning. Interesting idea, but don’t you think that your clothing will get in the way?” A well-placed prod illustrated the problem.

“I presumed that you would’ve removed my trousers first, Draco.”

“How am I supposed to know that if you don’t inform me?”

“Okay…” Harry huffed, not really annoyed, but growing hot-headed and impatient as his cock rose in response to the hardness rocking against him. “I want you to take my robe off.”

Draco broke contact and swiftly announced, “Done,” as material slid from Harry’s shoulders, promising treats yet to come.

Harry quickly threw in another request before he lost his nerve. “And undo my belt.”

The metal of a buckle clinked. 

“Unbutton and unzip my trousers.”

Nimble fingers unhitched the button and the zipper was carefully slid down over the tent in Harry’s trousers. “Got it.”

“And… pull down my trousers and underwear.”

“Straight down?” Draco hooked thumbs under the waistbands in preparation.

“No – be careful!”

“Then _direct_ me.”

With only a tinge of sarcasm, Harry instructed, “Pull both waistbands away from my stomach, _cautiously_ avoiding the tip of my penis and tug them down together. Can you manage that?” 

“Oh, I _see_ … I can do that.” Cold air hit Harry’s throbbing genitals as the appropriate clothing was lowered to rest at his ankles. But the contact didn’t immediately return. “Anything else?”

Closing his eyes, Harry willed himself not to turn, not to ruin this intriguing game. Instead, he bent slightly forward, resting both palms securely on the desk. “Lift up my shirt and insert your forefinger into my arse.”

A digit prodded only momentarily before breaching the muscle, causing Harry to gasp at the dry entry.

“Did you forget a step?” the man currently buried to the knuckle in Harry’s body enquired.

“Nope,” Harry purred, loving the invasion. “Put another in.”

Draco complied, squeezing another finger past the tight rim.

Harry moaned in approval, but it wasn’t nearly sufficient, not yet. He panted, squirmed, hoping for more. “A – another.” His channel stretched wider at the next intrusion.

“Hmm… how many do you want in there?”

“Four,” he managed to gasp. _One day, five_ , his mind fervently interjected, but that wasn’t for now. Four fingers soon rested motionless within Harry’s anus.

“Anything else?”

“Spread your fingers. And twist them. Hard.”

The required scissoring and twisting commenced quickly within him. 

“Am I hurting you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Draco knew full well that Harry would desire nothing of the sort. Harry loved it when it hurt, just enough. 

“ _No_. Fuck me,” he pleaded, squirming down, impaling his body further.

“Again… not a very detailed request, Harry.”

“You _know_ what I mean!” he grunted, arching his back and pressing backwards to create friction against his tender flesh.

“I’m going to need additional… information before I can continue.” Draco remained stubbornly motionless, but the hushed voice was beginning to betray his excitement. 

“Retract your fingers until they reach the tip and then shove them back in. _Repeatedly_. Is _that_ clear enough?”

“Not bad.” 

The purr at the back of Harry’s throat grew steadily into a growl as Draco fulfilled the instruction.

“Is that good?”

“Bloody hell, yes… do it harder.”

Unyielding fingers rammed back and forth, burning and burrowing deeper on every thrust. Harry locked his elbows and dipped his head, bracing himself against the assault, groaning out demands of, “more,” and, “harder,” at irregular intervals, until he felt his climax loom on the horizon and suddenly badly wanted to prevent it.

“S… stop.” It wasn’t proving to be as easy now to form words but as his balls tightened dangerously, Harry panted out a yell. “Draco! _Stop_.”

“Am I not doing it correctly? After all, I’m only following your instructions.”

“Don’t… want to come like this. Need you… in me first.”

“I think that I’m already _in_ you.”

“Remove… your fingers.” 

Harry didn’t really think that he had enough coherence left to issue further directions, so was both thankful and disappointed when the four digits which had been providing him with so much entertainment were obediently and roughly tugged from his body, leaving a lonely gap. But the now predicable query of, “Anything else?” pushed Harry’s patience over the edge.

“I want you to place your… oh, just mash my face down against the desk and fucking well _fuck_ me!”

“If you're going to get insistent…”

Despite the derisive snicker from behind Harry, the force and speed with which his latest request was met proved that Draco had been more than ready to comply. The head of a hot erection broke through, pressing inwards to quickly set a rhythm, impatient and brutal and one which Harry's hips were eager to match. Draco grunted, driving Harry into the desk, trapping his hips between two sets of clutching fingers and biting nails. 

The relentless thrusts and the delicious, almost intolerable friction drove Harry close to completion once again, so when Draco stopped all movement and locked his body taut above him, Harry bit down a scream of frustration. There had been an odd urgency to the abrupt pause; one which he didn’t think had resulted from Draco's orgasm.

“Draco…?”

No reply. Confused, Harry peered over his shoulder to determine the reason why he was no longer being ravaged.

Harry’s eyes followed an astonished gape which was morphing into anger by long, passing seconds. The cause became horrifically clear as he focused on the figures standing in the open doorway. Approximately a foot from a very smug redhead stood the Minister of Magic, wearing a look which could only be described as absolute disgust. Harry didn’t even want to contemplate how long the pair had been lingering there. Hush fell over the room like a thick, suffocating blanket, constricting Harry's lungs and leaving no oxygen for rational thought.

Ginny predictably broke the silence. “Minister, how does it make you feel to know that your precious saviour is currently shagging a Death Eater’s son?”

As Harry struggled for words, for comprehension, a breath wisped against his ear, “It’ll be all right,” and a hand fondly brushed the damp hair at the nape of his neck just before cold air hit his back. Lower garments rose to cover the remaining shreds of Harry’s dignity. 

“Minister Scrimgeour,” Draco began, “this is an unexpected interruption.” Harry watched his boyfriend turn towards the uninvited spectators, marvelling at the smooth return of Draco’s poise – one moment the man had been sweaty, ruffled and flushed with lust, the next controlled and calm as if nothing of consequence had just occurred.

“This – this is an outrage…” Scrimgeour started, but he was cut off by a composed query.

“How so?” asked Draco, buckling his belt with nonchalant, deliberate movements.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not entirely. Do you consider it an outrage because two men have been engaging in sexual relations within the Ministry building instead of indulging in your tastefully provided entertainment, or is your indignation due to the two parties involved? Or perhaps it is simply the sexual act in general to which you are opposed?”

To Harry’s amazement, the Minister actually stuttered, “I – I’m not opposed to acts of a sexual nature, Mr Malfoy, but -”

“I’m gratified to hear that.”

“But to think that Potter would even _contemplate_ such an action!”

“I don’t believe that I'm clear in regard to the problem. Or are you still determined to make all of Harry’s decisions for him? I believe that Miss Weasley would like that very much.”

“Of all the people he could choose… it’s hardly appropriate.”

“Excuse me?” Harry piped up, having successfully straightened out the kink in his back and fumbled with his own belt. “Why is it not appropriate?”

“Your judgement has clearly been clouded, Mr Potter. I have long since suspected that might be the case, but tonight’s revelation has confirmed it.”

“Confirmed what exactly?” Harry asked.

“Your inability to make rational decisions. Possibly due to a mild case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Miss Weasley has been keeping me informed of your recent lack of stability, but I had my doubts before witnessing this… scene.”

“Post-traumatic stress? The only _trauma_ I’ve been trying to get over has been my relationship with _her_ ,” Harry spat, Draco’s hand on his chest keeping him at bay.

“What I am supposed to do when you decide that taking that bastard’s cock up your arse is better than what I can offer?” shrieked Ginny.

“How about finding a nice homely psycho to keep you warm during all the long, cold nights?” suggested Harry. “That sounds like a perfectly deranged match.”

“Like you did?”

“Draco isn’t deranged!” 

“If I might add a comment?” offered the Minister.

“ _No_ ,” was the joint opinion of Harry and his ex.

Ginny recommenced her rant without missing a beat. “He’s a fucking _Death Eater_!”

“Do you think so?” asked the Minister, squinting at Draco suspiciously.

“Of _course_ he isn’t!” defended Harry.

“He’s a Malfoy! They’re all the same!”

“You don’t _know_ him!”

“I know enough about him to see that he’s a slithering git only out to use you!”

“And what do _you_ want to do with me? Missing the celebrity of being the bloody saviour’s girlfriend are you, Ginny? Draco doesn’t need any of that. If you can’t see that Draco is the most tender, caring person you’d ever meet then you're fucking blind!”

“Harry, you’re ruining my image,” Draco drawled quietly, stepping in with a sigh. “I think that we all need to calm down.” 

“You don’t know what’s good for you, Harry,” contributed Ginny with a hiss, clearly ignoring any proposal of calmness.

“I know what _isn’t_ ,” yelled Harry, pushing against Draco’s outstretched palm.

“ _Utterly_ outrageous,” proclaimed Scrimgeour.

“For fuck’s sake…” muttered Draco. Then, in a stronger voice, “I feel that a few points should be noted at this juncture. First of all, it is clear that Harry is not suffering from post-traumatic stress… although I admit that this event could make a smallish temporary dent in anyone’s sanity. Secondly, mine or Harry’s choice of partner is no-one’s business but our own. It is both perfectly acceptable and safe to allow him to make choices for himself.”

The Minister gagged. “But if he -” 

“Harry does not need to remain the faithful, pure saviour of the world. He’s done what you asked him to. _Thirdly_ ,” Draco growled as Ginny opened her mouth to interrupt, “a jilted spouse does not make a reliable informant, but I would’ve expected someone of your high intellect to deduce that for yourself, Minister. Lastly,” he added, bending to pluck Harry’s robe from the floor, “while we do apologise profusely for this incident and any inconvenience it may have caused, our actions do not excuse personal attacks on our characters, even from Government officials or insanely jealous women.” Draco shook imaginary dust from the material as he spoke, “Especially since the underwear lying forgotten or discarded in the far corner does not belong to either of us.” 

Harry gawked as his robe was proffered towards him, sensing that now would be an appropriate time to add a supportive remark but failing to come up with anything all that great.

“And in case anyone here might be under some illusion,” continued Draco, “may I remind everyone present that I do not, nor have ever carried a Dark Mark on my skin. My skin is perfectly unblemished, which will be blatantly obvious to anyone who cares to examine it.”

Harry froze with one arm successfully enclosed within the robe, taken aback by the speech, but amused to see that Draco’s argument had produced both a flush on the Minister’s features and silenced Ginny, at least for the moment.

“I believe that this is an office often utilised by yourself, Mr Scrimgeour. But I’m sure that you can berate your cleaning staff at a more expedient time.” 

“But…” the Minister protested, “you cannot expect me to believe that you have no underlying agenda and actually care for Mr Potter?”

“Whom I love has no bearing on the situation,” Draco announced, prodding Harry’s lower back to steer him past the Minister and shouldering Ginny out of the way in the process. “Thank you for a most pleasant evening.” Ginny scrabbled for both words and her balance as they slid past.

Harry waited until they were clear of the building before halting Draco with a nudge and gasping out the question which had been burning him since their departure from the scene. “Did you actually just say in there that you loved me?” 

“Don’t get all mushy on me, Potter,” Draco scolded.

“Hey, you started it.”

“I did not.”

“What _did_ you mean then?”

“I didn’t mean anything. Just because we were shagging in his office doesn’t give him the right to judge us.”

“Actually, he might’ve had a point about the shagging.”

“Not at all. As far as my observations in the past have indicated, it appears to be standard Ministry procedure.”

“So, you didn’t mean what I think you did?” 

“What do want to hear, Harry?” Draco sneered. “That I love you? That I can’t envision my life without you? That you’ve sucked me into a world of love and devotion? Dragged me kicking and screaming towards blissful happiness?”

“I… well, no,” Harry whispered, nervous at the reappearance of the familiar derisive smirk. He hadn’t seen that in a while. But he shouldn’t have presumed that Draco had meant anything by the comment. The fact that Harry had allowed himself to care for this man didn’t necessarily mean that the feelings were returned. Draco most likely preferred to think of their relationship as an agreeable distraction from his workload, entirely expendable. 

“Because it’d only be true,” Draco casually added, the derision falling from his features.

“Really?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, you _do_ have perfectly unblemished skin…” Harry snickered, kissing a sample of that delectable delicacy on Draco’s neck. “I suppose that I could manage to love you too. Or already do. You know, though… I still think that we really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh, I’m sure that I can encourage you to do much worse in the future,” Draco grinned, pulling him close. “I have plenty of time to completely ruin your impeccable character. After all, we wouldn’t want to disappoint the Minister.”


End file.
